Blaise's Potion
by Hyena Cub
Summary: Blaise Zabini brews an illicit potion, and gets a lot more trouble than he bargained for. This was an assignment for a DurmstrangsimulationRPG group I am in, and it turned out pretty nicely! This was written prior to reading HBP.


DISCLAIMER 

It's actually kinda sad that I need this, but I figured I would cover my tail end. 

None of this stuff is mine! Any stories I write of copyrighted characters are fanfiction. I hold no claims to them, they are the properties of those who hold the copyrights and trademarks, and whatnot. And I am neither making nor trying to make any money or earnings of any kind from my stories. They are just for my enjoyment and the enjoyment for those who may happen to read them. 

I (and I think most fanfiction artists) write fanfiction because they love the genre about which they write, and want to create their own stories with the characters that have become old friends to them. They like to visit the world more often and go to more places than they can reading the books or watching the show or movie. That's why I write them. Because I like them. 

Anyway. 

Again, I claim none of it as my own except those characters that I created that are not a part of the original genre. 

Blaise's Potion   
by Saber McConnell (aka hyena cub)   
Rated PG for violence and mention of disturbing concepts. 

--- 

Blaise Zabini brews an illicit potion, and gets a lot more trouble than he bargained for. This was an assignment for a Durmstrang-simulation-RPG group I am in, and it turned out pretty nicely! 

--- 

The dungeon was dark, save for the far corner, which was lit by a sickly green light. The flame of the overhead lantern was turned down, so as to attract as little attention as possible to its user. A single cauldron sat on the ground, simmering quietly, while a young man sat on the ground nearby, watching. 

The boy was dressed in casual robes, not the school uniform that he normally wore for classes. He wore no tie, and no hat. His soft, brown hair had a slight, natural wave to it, and his fringe fell across his blue eyes. His face was round, youthful, with a spread of freckles across his nose. There was a slight feminine look about him, though anyone saying so would have gotten hexed. 

The boys name was Blaise Zabini, a seventh-year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the dungeon he sat in was the potions classroom. The room was empty now, late Friday night. Everyone else was in bed, save for one or two of the teachers, and they were either in their quarters or in the staff room. 

Blaise shifted his position on the floor, leaning back against the hard stone of the wall. The flagstone beneath his rear gave him a chill, and he pulled his outer robe a bit more closely around him. He thought about using one of the chairs, but ultimately decided against it; his fire had nearly gone out twice now, and he didnt want to risk it going out completely. Not when the potion was nearly done. He had not sat on a cold, hard floor for four hours, only to have to begin all over again. 

A sudden, high-pitched whizzing sound startled him, and he drew in a sharp breath, his heart suddenly beating a lot faster than it had a moment before. Still, a satisfied smile crossed his features as he knelt up to peer into the cauldron. The potion inside was a smooth melon color, and it bubbled slightly as it simmered. Finally, he said quietly. His first two attempts had not come out anywhere close to this color; one had been green, the other had been a gray, goopy sludge like Polyjuice Potion. This potion was not quite the clean orange color it was supposed to be, but the book _had_ said there could be a bit of variation, and other than the melon color, the potion looked fine. 

Blaise watched carefully for the exact moment that the potion would stop its whizzing, extinguishing the flame as soon as it did. He watched the potion stop bubbling, and nodded his head in satisfaction. This time, it would work, he was sure of it. 

Once the potion was cooled, Blaise carefully filled two phials and slipped them into the pocket of his robes. Then he stood, pointed his wand at his cauldron, and hissed, Evanesco! The remainder of the potion vanished, leaving his cauldron as clean as it had been before. Smiling, Blaise picked the cauldron up, extinguished the green flame of the lamp, and slipped out of the dungeon. 

Sneaking back into the Slytherin Common Room had not been a huge problem for Blaise, he had been doing this since first year. Unlike the Gryffindors, they didn't have a nagging portrait guarding their door. Instead, the door was concealed in a stone wall, and one had to know just where it was before they could use the password to get inside. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would find out how well he had brewed his potion. After Blaise had undressed and gotten into his pajamas, he looked at his book, Moste Potente Potions, and smiled. The archaic writing at the top of the page read, Love Potions. With a small grin, he slid the book underneath his bed. No one knew that he had it, as he had sneaked it from the Restricted Section earlier that year. And he intended to keep it that way. Once he was finished with it, he could put it in some Grffindors bag and let them deal with it. 

He stashed the vials of potion in his trunk and climbed into his four-poster, drawing the curtains and closing his eyes. 

-- 

Saturday was full of bright sunshine and chirping birds. Blaise groaned as the sound came in through the narrow windows of the dungeons, and grumbled something that might have been a swear word. He sighed and got out of bed, glaring at the warm spring sunshine. Not that he had anything against warm weather, but he did have something against a lot of miserable birds waking him up. 

He glared for a moment before slipping on a light, comfortable set of robes. Careful not to wake the other seventh-year boys (at least those that had not already left for breakfast), Blaise dug into his trunk and retrieved his vials. He slipped them into his pocket and headed for the Great Hall. 

At breakfast, Blaise hardly ate; he was too nervous to risk putting anything in his uneasy stomach. He tried not to be obvious as he eyed Rose Zeller, a third year girl that he had asked on a date to Hogsmeade a little while before Christmas, and who had declined. Not only had she declined, she had been quite rude about it. Even now, as Blaise thought about this rejection, his eyes narrowed in anger. How dare she talk to him like that? He felt it his duty to teach her the error of his ways. Once she had taken the potion and fallen in love with him, he would take it beyond what propriety allowed... That would teach her a little humility. He could always slip her the antidote later and let her realize what she had done. 

It was not until the very end of the meal that Blaise had his chance. Rose left her plate for a moment to go see something that one of her friends wanted to show her. Blaise stood and skulked towards her plate, and with a sly movement, emptied the vial in the last half of Roses pumpkin juice. Then he continued, leaving the Great Hall and heading out onto the grounds. Any time now, he thought. 

He sat in the grass, his back against a nearby tree, watching the lazy movements of the giant squid in the lake. Thoughts of his exquisite revenge filling his mind, he didnt even look twice when a couple of Gryffindor first-years passed, chasing each other and laughing. Usually he would have at the very least tripped one of them. But today he had other things to worry about. 

The minutes crept by, and Blaise began to wonder if perhaps the potion simply needed time to work. Maybe by that night at supper, she would approach him, desperate for his affections. Yes, by dinner that night. 

With this thought in mind, Blaise stood and headed inside - he had some Potions homework to complete. 

-- 

The night at supper, Blaise again did not eat, this time for anger and frustration. Why hadnt the potion worked? Had he brewed it wrong again? Surely not; he had done everything exactly as it had said to in the book. But Rose was not only not throwing herself at him, she wasnt even at the table. 

He asked a couple of the seventh-years where she was, but most of them didnt even know who he was talking about; she was four years younger than them, after all. In frustration, Blaise ended up going back to the common room early. 

The next day, he didn't see Rose all day, and by asking some of the other third years, discovered that she had gone to hospital. Why, he wasnt sure, but he felt better. It was lousy timing, but certainly that meant he had brewed his potion correctly, she had simply gotten injured or something of the like. 

-- 

When Rose did not show up for several days after that, _then_ Blaise began to worry. He had managed to find out that Rose had been taken to St. Mungos because of some kind of sickness that Madame Pomfrey could not figure out. What if Blaise _had_ concocted his potion wrong, and it had made her sick? If she died, expulsion from Hogwarts would be the least of Blaises worries. He was seventeen, and considered an adult so far as laws went. 

Days went by, and then weeks. As summer approached, Blaise had exams to worry about, and could spare no brain power towards worrying about Rose Zeller. He consoled himself by reasoning that if she died, there would be nothing that pointed to him. 

The school year ended without any sign of Rose Zeller, and Blaise began to wonder if she was, indeed, dead. She was not on the train back to Kings Cross station, and no one seemed to know where she had gone. And so, Blaise concluded that he had seen the last of her. 

A month later, mere days after he had moved from his parents house and settled into his own flat, he discovered just how wrong he was. 

Blaise awoke one morning to find that he was not alone in his apartment; three figures in black robes and blank masks stood at his bedside, all with wands pointed at his chest. Considerably alarmed, Blaise made as if to reach for his wand before realizing that it wasnt there. 

Dont bother, said a voice, muffled by the mask, but Blaise thought that he might know who it belonged to. It sounded a lot like Malfoys father. Draco Malfoy was a boy in his own year at Hogwarts. Get up. 

With three wands aimed at him, Blaise was not about to argue. Unless he was much mistaken, these were Death Eaters; the Dark Lords elite fighters. The young man carefully stood, backing up a bit until he felt the nearby wall against his back. Whats this about? he asked. 

The one who had spoken, the one that Blaise had been sure was Malfoy, was shaking his head sadly. You had such potential, said Malfoy. Even the Dark Lord said that you could have gone far within his ranks. 

Completely nonplused, Blaise only blinked at him a moment before asking, What...what have I done to displease the Dark Lord? 

There was silence for a moment, and then a womans voice from his left. You truly dont know, do you? Bellatrix Lestrange? So far as he knew, she was the only woman within the Death Eaters ranks. Blaise shook his head. 

Thats too bad, said the third figure. But ignorance is no excuse. Whats done is done. 

Blaise was getting angry. Is anyone going to-- 

Rose Zeller, said the third voice, a voice that Blaise did not recognize at all. He nonetheless felt a cold chill at his words. Perhaps he had bought more trouble with that than even he could have predicted. She is my daughter. 

She-shes not... 

Oh, shes alive, said the voice. But it was a close thing. The Healers at St. Mungos were able to find out what had made her sick, and what it was supposed to be. The voice, which had until this point been calm, almost bored, was now suddenly wrathful. A Love Potion - a particularly nasty one. 

A-A Love Potion? stammered Blaise. 

Dont bother lying, the woman hissed. Zeller here is one of the most skilled Legilimens in the country, second only to the Dark Lord himself! 

Perfect, Blaise thought frantically. Just perfect. 

And so, said the third figure, Zeller, his voice calm once again, I must ask you: did you bother to read the entire entry in that book you stole from the library? Or did you just blunder on without a thought to what warnings there might be? Without giving Blaise a chance to answer, he went on. You seemed to have missed a crucial detail. The potion is not intended for use in anyone under the age of sixteen. My daughter is thirteen, and your fool stunt nearly killed her. 

Blaises eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. How could he have missed such a thing? 

The womans smirk was nearly an audible thing. I dont suppose you know who this man is, do you? Zeller? He is the Dark Lords most faithful servant, his closest compatriot. You harm him, you harm the Dark Lord. 

Oh lords, Blaise thought. His normally tanned face was deadly pale, and he felt as if he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. He had never experienced terror before in his life, until this moment. I-I... he stammered. I didn't realize, I just-- 

Zeller interrupted. You just wanted to force my little girl to fall madly in love with you, he said in a deadly quiet tone. Why? 

At this point, Blaise felt that it might be better to keep his mouth shut, and mumbled something inaudible as he slumped against the wall. Just kill me and get it over with, he thought. 

At this point, Zeller lost patience, and pointed his wand at Blaises chest. Legilimens! he cried. 

The spell took Blaise completely by surprise, and he was suddenly plunged into a sort of trance. The things that were on the forefront of his mind seemed to flash by as if on a television screen. He saw his first two failures of the Love Potion, he saw how he had slipped the liquid into Roses pumpkin juice. He saw a few unrelated events, such as his frustration with exams and his joy when they were finally over. Perhaps he might have salvaged the situation if he had not seen one final thing, a thing that he also knew the man could see: what he intended to do to Rose once the potion had taken place. 

Feeling as if he were coming out of a dream, Blaise faintly heard a furious voice hiss, Crucio! before a wave of crippling pain blasted its way into every part of his body. He screamed, though he neither heard nor realized he had done so. He collapsed to the ground, writhing, his mind suddenly focused on willing the pain to stop. 

It seemed like several hours before Zeller raised his wand, breaking the curse. Blaise lay curled up on the floor, shaking and sobbing as if he were seven, not seventeen. There were not words to describe the level of agony that curse could inflict. He gasped in air, panting for breath, as the worst of the pain subsided. 

I should kill you, came Zellers voice, and for a moment, Blaise wished that he would. Anything to end this pain and terror. Even after the Curse was lifted, there was pain in every muscle in his body. If it were up to me, the man continued, I _would_ kill you. Slowly. But the Dark Lord wants you brought to him. 

Oh my God, Blaise thought. He hadnt thought that his fear could spike any more, but he found that he still had a bit more room for terror. He didn't answer; he only lay his head on his bedroom floor and wished that he had never heard of Rose Zeller. 

What do you think the Dark Lord will do with this one? asked Malfoy. 

Now that the dementors have taken Azkaban, said Zeller, I believe this scum will be sent there. A fitting punishment, I think. Blaise looked up into Zellers wand, listened to him say, Stupefy!, and then he knew no more. 

--END 


End file.
